The Book of Gods and Devils
Down In that anonymous Southern city. It made me take into account the Germans marching prior our residence in 1944. the best way everyone stood at the sidewalk gazing them out of the nook of the attention, The earth trembling, dying going by... a bit white puppy bumped into the road And received entangled with the warriors' toes. A kick made him fly as though he had wings. that is what I retain seeing! evening coming down. A puppy with wings. LE BEAU MONDE a guy obtained as much as speak about Marcel Proust, "The nice.
Knew them. The North regularly where of punishment. Deep snow. Blue-veined bushes and timber emerging opposed to the pink-colored morning sky... in order that in short, in that one spell, Your heartache hushes on the great thing about it. half MARCHING song Our historical past is either tragic and comedian. Beat the massive drum, fellows! Horsemen of the Apocalypse, What enjoyable it used to be to drag your horses' tails! The earth trembled. powerful towers collapsed. Towers of chairs nonetheless hot With backsides of kings.
And queens, Towers of pisspots, too, the place our philosophers sat pondering. We stood with our mouths open Admiring the trendy black hoods The horses and the coachmen wore As they hauled off the trash to the endless. Beat the massive drum, fellows! at the sq. of everlasting Happiness a lady ran by way of shrieking, Hugging a blood-stained blouse. somewhat MUMMERY for Fanny Howe within the nook of your eye the place demise cools his heels, A skit, a dumb express That took a wink to perform,.
That took an eternity! Your dad and mom With a ventriloquist's dummy (That used to be you With cheeks painted red), coming near near a few infantrymen. (They are armed.) the lady is pleading. The dummy Sits on your father's hands Grinning from ear to ear. it is a day like at the present time Thirty years in the past, So brilliant, so sunny, everyone has to squint. the massive conflict We performed warfare through the warfare, Margaret. Toy infantrymen have been in immense call for, the sort made up of clay. The lead ones they melted.
we will simply see her blood-red fingernails Drying at the windowsill. the only she's talking to is still silent. he is simply an idea, besides, Sulking in a few again room With a somber view of its personal. the kid Who can't be positioned into phrases. MRS. DIGBY'S photograph ALBUM a toddler shrieks with terror. the lads chuckle. The apple timber are in blossom. Smoke trails the night teach. No sheep at the eco-friendly meadow. No bones within the previous graveyard. all of sudden a fowl takes to the air. A suitcase sits via the.